Continuity
by Meika13
Summary: KBOW: How she wished that life would return to when it was still good –if not good, at least bearable. Why didn’t he listen to her? If he had only listened to her…


Continuity

Katie sighed as she walked into her cramped apartment after another day of raids. She swished her wand and the light on the ceiling magically flicked on, sending waves of fickle light into her shabby and neglected living room. The paint was peeling off, and there were stains on her furniture. She hadn't bothered cleaning this room for a very long time. After all, she didn't do much here, what with her demanding job and not having anyone visit anymore, Katie thought it was just fine as it was. She hadn't needed comfort, no, she didn't need those; all she needed was a place to sleep.

She walked toward her chipped dinner table and sat down on a shaky chair. With another swish of her wand, pots and pans aligned themselves accordingly on her stove in the kitchen. Another swish and food appeared and began to stir itself slowly in the pot.

If you asked Katie Bell what she thought her future to be like five years ago, _this_ certainly wouldn't have been her answer. She would much prefer to be able to tell people that she lived in a modest house, had a husband and a child. But now, all she had was _this_. All she had was this empty apartment on Diagon Alley above Madam Mulkin's with not even an owl to return to.

Katie would like to tell you that she did, indeed, once have a husband and a modest house. Now that she didn't have them anymore, she would just like to justify her lacking of them.

It was this war.

It was this goddamned war. It destroyed _everything_.

Katie hoped and hoped and hoped that this war would end. Anything for it to end…before it took anymore than it already had.

Brooding was no way to live; that she knew. What was it that Dumbledore used to say? That it did not do well to dwell on dreams. Alas, dreams were the only thing that Katie had left.

She closed her eyes and rested her head in her arms. How she wished that life would return to when it was still good –if not good, at least bearable. Not when she lived in this dump. Not when she had lived like this. Back to when she had a husband and a companion. Katie would give anything to turn back time to bring Oliver Wood back. Why didn't he listen to her? If he had only listened to her…

_It was a beautiful night. The stars shined brightly against the ink-blue sky. There was not a cloud in sight._

_Katie and Oliver were enjoying a nighttime stroll in the park that was just a few miles from their house. Their hands were held, smiles upon both their tranquil faces. _

_The peace didn't last. _

_Screams.__ There were horrible, shrewd screams. People running, screaming. Running everywhere, anywhere away from here._

_Panic._

_The Dark Mark appeared bright and sickly green above their house. Its serpentine tongue swirled around inside the skeletal frame. _

_"Katie," Oliver started and pulled out his wand, "you go alert the Order. I'll go back and—"_

_"No, Oliver! It's just a house!" she held urgently onto his arm, "We both need to go alert the Order. We need backup. You can't go in there alone!"_

_Oliver looked at her with almost bewildered eyes, "Katie, it's not just a house. It's **our** house. Doesn't it mean anything to you?"_

_"Of course, it does!" _

_"Then let me go!"_

_"I can't," she replied softly, "Oliver, we could always build another house. It's not worth your life."_

_Oliver pulled his arm out of her grasp, ignoring her plea, "Katie, please, go alert the Order. I'll be back, I promise." With a kiss to her forehead and a touch of his hand to her cheek, he left; his brain already working for when the remaining Death Eaters would attack. He ran all the way into the forest that concealed their house and that was the last fleeting image Katie saw of him. _

The memory went over and over itself in her mind; playing like a broken tape recorder. This was what she remembered of the night… all that she remembered.

There was a piercing whistle from the water kettle, and Katie jerked out of her trance. She walked mechanically toward her stove, lifted the kettle, and reached into one of the cabinets above. She grabbed a cup and poured herself some hot water. With a habitual swish of her wand, the water became tea, and she took a sip. As she walked back toward the dinner table, the pan of pasta poured itself into a bowl, and along with utensils, followed her. The silverware settled itself onto the table. She picked up her fork and began to eat, periodically picking up her cup of tea for a drink.

Katie supposed that life continued on.

With every week, more Death Eaters would be put into Azkaban, and the war would step ever closer to its end; and with the end, the downfall of Voldemort. With every spring that passed after, there came new buds that would eventually bloom into beautiful flowers—a new generation. Then with every year that passed, people would slowly begin to put this war into the furthest cellar of their minds. They would learn to understand the man who had forgotten how to love, who had started all of this. And as a new decade dawned upon wizard kind, slowly, ultimately, people would begin…to forgive.


End file.
